


Maybe We're Not So Different

by DepartedNullification



Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, I'm Bad At Summaries, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 06:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19901311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DepartedNullification/pseuds/DepartedNullification
Summary: Peter B. Parker chats with Miles Morales. They learn that they are not alone.





	Maybe We're Not So Different

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off of the deleted scenes for the film. A lot of the dialogue actually originates from the scene itself. You can check that out on YouTube by searching for it. I cut some lines off, moved others, or modified them. Everything else is written by me. The ending is open-ended, and not as satisfying as I would have hoped. I may return in the future to add some touch-ups.

There is something grand about being a hero. For a few short years the euphoria that came with being somebody worthwhile was reason enough to leave the comfort of his home. The idea of having a simple life spent hidden away from the public eye might have been appealing in the past, before a radioactive spider decided to play god and turn his entire life upside-down.

Years of failure alongside a growing ache in his chest made it hard to get back up from the moment he fell.

Don't invest in a spider-themed restaurant.

The divorce. The weight gain. Everything was   
happening too quickly, and before he knew it, everything was gone. He navigated through the following months with mornings spent in tears, and nature documentaries. In his mind, the one way he could escape his situation was death itself. His cheap apartment was far too small for him to hang himself. From the moment he kicks the chair away, his feet make contact with the cheap carpeting, signifying his repeated failure. At the same time, he did not like the idea of people discovering their beacon of hope with his mangled corpse out in the middle of a busy street. 

Memories of the old days were branded into the back of his mind, and every waking moment he spent reliving the days of good fortunate and hope. Now the little hope he could still grasp was in the shape of a delicious, albeit greasy slice of pepperoni pizza.

Peter did not believe in the meddlings of fate, yet somehow the universe continues to throw the broken man into uncomfortable situations against his will.

From this other dimension, he meets a boy much unlike himself.

Miles Morales. The teenager with bags under his eyes. Exhaustion that Peter only sees in the mirror every other morning. 

It was the early hours of the morning. Unable to find comfort in conversation, Peter beelines to the nearest rooftop. Upon reaching the top, his gaze sets onto the horizon. The way the sun seems to break into the skyline without appearing intrusive fabricates an aesthetically pleasing picture to the eye.

A deep sigh brings his attention to the edge.

Miles was hugging his knees tightly to his chest. Protectively, but not without visible distress.

Maybe they weren't so different after all.

After a few seconds of reluctance, Peter decides to sit beside the other man.

"Hey bud, you okay?" 

"No. I'm not like you guys. Yet I'm suppose to save the world, Peter."

"Well there's your problem right there. You can't think about saving the whole world, you have to think about saving one person, Miles. You just think about someone you love."

"My mom, and my uncle... and my dad."

"In that order? Wanna talk about that?"

"No."

In this moment, Miles breaks out in a small grin. It disappears rather quickly.

"There's a Mary Jane where you come from, right? She's your one?"

"She was. I mean she's still there but it's uhh.. y'know."

Peter glances upwards to meet the eyes of the teenager.

"You wanna talk about that?"

"Look Miles this hero thing it gets.. it gets really, really complicated, man. You lose things. And look, maybe if I could go back home, and I could have another chance, I would... maybe I would do some things I didn't do, okay?"

"You wanna talk about _that_?"

Peter's mind wanders once more, and suddenly he doesn't feel as grounded.

"Honestly Miles don't do it like I did. You gotta do it like you."

"When will I know I'm Spider-Man?"

"You won't. It's a leap of faith. In the end, that's all it is Miles. A leap of faith."

"I can't. Peter I've already lost. How am I suppose to stop these guys, when I can't even.." Miles' voice trails off, and hands move to cover the tears filling in his eyes.

"Kid?"

Miles makes an dismissive gesture towards the ground, which was a solid sixty feet from their current position.

"I can't save anybody." Miles repeats, somewhat louder than before. "I can't even save myself."

The teenager shuffles out of his pitiful position to remove his green hoodie. It reveals a constellation of marks crisscrossing down both arms, each and every scar appearing deeper than the one before.

Peter inspects the damage from afar, before scooting in much closer.

A majority of them appear to have been created in bunches, with an overwhelming amount of band-aids piling up towards his forearms. Peter suspects that this is an ongoing habit.

"Are... are there more?"

"Yes." The response is immediate, direct, as though Miles was expecting the question. "Farther up, on my shoulders."

"And why show me now?"

"I don't know. Something about you, it feels familiar. I was hoping that.. that I'm not as alone as I feel."

"Kid I can imagine that we all have our moments. We have all lost someone."

"That's not what I meant. This---" Miles peers downwards at the dark etchings into his skin. The urge to feel something other than the gaping hole in his chest. "Have any of the others indulged in this? Have they considered just.. ending it all. It would be easier."

"Personally I haven't ever.. Uh, y'know. Engaged in any form of self-mutilation."

"So. You wouldn't understand---"

"Buuut I have spent many years of my life wallowing in self-pity. I've been there a million times before, Miles. Looking over the edge, wondering whether or not the live I lead is worth a damn thing."

Peter awkwardly outstretches the boy's hoodie towards him as an offering. The knowledge that this hoodie holds more secrets than most people could ever imagine leaves a bad taste in his mouth. As an adult, the idea that individuals as young as Miles and younger are suffering the same way as him brings him a familiar, internalized pain. Nobody deserves to feel this much pain. Except maybe him.

Miles accepts the hoodie immediately, putting his arms through the sleeves and fiddling with the red drawstrings.

"It doesn't bother me as much anymore. I suppose the last few months of my life I've spent completely numb. I used to be incapable of feeling anything other than this residual pain in my chest. It's suppose to be better this way, pushing aside everything I've ever loved. It's a sacrifice we have to make."

"Does it ever get better?"

"I'm not going to lie to you. It could. You just have to push for what you believe in. With hardwork, you could recover. Honestly I don't think recovery is for everyone. But I have high hopes for you. You're better than the best of us. You have so much potential."

"Thanks for talking to me. It feels good to know that I'm not the only one."

"Right back at ya kid."


End file.
